Page 49 of Waiting for the Rancher
Although Jo-Jo was upstairs making beds and tidying rooms, Hazel hadn’t asked their sweet maid for help with anything. She’d also declined assistance from her mother and Scarlet. Selfishly, she’d wanted to take care of Maverick by herself—or at least, as much as Sterling would let her.
He’d been the one to stay at Maverick’s bedside during the night, attending to Maverick’s personal needs at bedtime and sending Hazel away. He’d only allowed her back into the room in the morning after Maverick was dressed, groomed, and ready for the day.
She was relieved Sterling had apologized and tried to right his relationship with Maverick. Although the easygoing camaraderie between the two wasn’t back yet, at least they were talking to each other again.
After Sterling left Maverick’s room, she took over caring for him, and she’d gotten to spend the past two days by his bedside. While he’d slept for long hours at a time, she hadn’t wanted to be anywhere else. During his waking moments, he hadn’t spoken much. From the tight lines in his face and the glassiness of his eyes, she’d been able to tell he was fighting pain, even with the opium pills the doctor had given him.
To distract him, she’d set up first checkers and then backgammon, and they’d played in between his fitful bouts of sleep. But his frustration with himself and the situation had been growing.
As she started up the steps, she prayed today would be a better day, that he’d be in less pain, and that he’d start to regain more function in his legs.
And she prayed he wouldn’t get frustrated with their relationship. At times he interacted with her normally, without any strange tension. But then other times, like this morningwhen she’d entered the room shortly after Sterling left at dawn, Maverick’s gaze had landed upon her hungrily. He’d taken her in with such need she’d almost been breathless by the time she crossed to the bed.
A part of her had debated bending down and kissing him like she had when he’d regained consciousness. But he’d closed his eyes, shifted away from her, and gone back to sleep.
It was probably for the best that she hadn’t kissed him again. Because even though she’d only meant to show her relief that morning, the kiss had swiftly changed into something much more passionate.
In fact, it had shaken her, perhaps even more than his first kiss. Or maybe she’d just been reeling with how close she’d come to losing him. Whatever the case, his kisses left her with only a desire to kiss him more.
Even now, she wanted to be brave enough to walk into his room, go over to him, and let her lips touch his. Why couldn’t she? No one was there to stop her. And no one would have to know, not even Jo-Jo—especially if she was quiet and closed the bedroom door.
Of course, Sterling had told her to leave the door open when she was taking care of Maverick, that he didn’t want her to be alone in the bedroom with a man. Her father had reiterated the same thing last night when he’d finally come home from the silver mine and learned of Maverick’s accident.
She understood the reasoning behind the rule. If she closed the door, soon enough the ranch hands would learn of it, and her reputation would suffer.
No, she wouldn’t close the door. And she wouldn’t kiss him again. But as she made her way quietly down the hallway toward Sterling’s bedroom, her pulse picked up pace at just the thought of seeing him again... and because she loved him.
Yes, she truly and deeply loved him. She’d allowed herself to acknowledge her love the day of the accident. Was it time to tell him?
He hadn’t said anything more about his love. What if he was waiting to say it again until he knew how she felt? Maybe she had to be the one to make the next move.
As she stepped into the doorway, he was standing by a far chair that held the bag of his clothing Clementine had brought over. He was leaning against the wall and attempting to shrug into a coat. His movements were jerky, his muscles and limbs still not cooperating well.
“Maverick,” she chided. “You shouldn’t be up.”
He didn’t stop, just grunted as he tugged his coat up over his broad shoulders.
She placed the breakfast tray on the bureau and crossed toward him. “You don’t need your coat on. If you’re cold, I’ll get another blanket.”
“I’m not cold.” His body might not be cold, but something in his tone was most definitely cold.
She halted several feet away from him. He was an independent man and didn’t like to show weakness or accept help. All the Oakley men were like that—tough and single-minded.
As he finished slipping his other arm into the coat, he straightened and pushed away from the wall, holding onto his cane tightly, the muscles in his hand taut and his veins showing.
He glanced out the window, his face flushed from the exertion. “I’m going home.”
Only then did she notice that his boots were on, although not laced. He reached for his hat, sitting on top of his bag, and situated it on his head.
He was serious.
Her pulse gave a lurch of protest, and she shook her head. “No. You can’t. You’ll hurt your back even more if you’re not careful.”
“Tanner will be here for me any minute.”
Her racing thoughts came to a halt. Tanner had stopped by last evening for a little bit to check on Maverick. Had Maverick made the plans then?
“You know Sterling wants you to stay.” Could he hear her need for him? It practically echoed in each word she spoke.
